Now that very evening Bob Lindheim’s extremely handsome wife wanted a necklace, and wanted it at once; also she wanted it of filbert-sized diamonds. She had heard her husband speak highly of Sam Sharpe’s masterly manipulation of Turpentine, and she knew he was “in on the ground floor.” She read the newspapers, and she always followed the stock market diligently, for Bob, being young and loving, used to give her a share in his stock deals from time to time, and she learned to figure for herself her “paper” or theoretical profits, when there were any, so that Bob couldn’t have “welched” if he had wished. On this particular evening she had statistics ready for him, showing how much money he had made; and she wanted that necklace. She had longed for it for months. It cost only $17,000. But there was also a lovely bracelet, diamonds and rubies, and—— Lindheim, to his everlasting credit, remonstrated and told her: “Wait until the pool realizes, sweetheart. I don’t know at what price that will be, for Sharpe says nothing. But I know we’ll all make something handsome, and so will you. I’ll give you 500 shares at 30. There!” “But I want it now!” she protested, pouting. She was certainly beautiful, and when she pouted, with her rich, red lips—— “Wait a week, dear,” he urged nevertheless. “Lend me the money now, and I’ll pay it back to you when you give me what I make on the deal,” she said, with fine finality. And seeing hesitation in Bob’s face, she added, solemnly: “Honest, I will, Bob. I’ll pay you back every cent, this time.” “I’ll think about it,” said Bob. He always said it when he had capitulated, and she knew it, and so she said, magnanimously: “Very well, dear.” Lindheim thought 1,000 shares would do it, so he decided to sell a thousand the next day, for you can never tell what may happen, and accidents seldom help the bulls. But as he thought of it in his office more calmly, more deliberately, away from his wife and from the influence she exercised over him, it struck him forcibly that it was wrong to sell 1,000 shares of Turpentine stock. He might as well as not make it 2,500; and he did. He was really a modest fellow, and very young. His wife’s cousin sold the stock for him, apparently short. Total breach of faith, 17,500 shares. The market stood it well. Sharpe was certainly a wonderful chap. Unfortunately, Morris Steinfelder, Jr., decided to sell 1,500 “Turp,” and did so. The stock actually rose a half point on his sales. So he sold another 1,500, and, as a sort of parting shot, 500 shares more. All this through an unsuspected broker. Total breach of faith, 21,000 shares. The market was but slightly affected. Then Louis Reis of Reis & Stern, “Andy” Fischel of Kohn, Fischel & Co., Hugo Zeman of Zeman Bros., and “Joe” Shaffran of Rosenthal, Shaffran & Co., all thought they could break their pledges to Sharpe with impunity, and each sold, to be on the safe side. This last lump figured up as follows: